


Tonight at Eight

by VasaliaTheWise



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blurb, But it all ends up ok, Comfort, Dating, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food, Magic Tricks, Reader gets really petty, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Tongue-in-cheek, silly comments on the series and hte MM universe, tw: mentions of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VasaliaTheWise/pseuds/VasaliaTheWise
Summary: Showing up late for dinner spurs your first large spat with your boyfriend, Charlie Nelson.
Relationships: Charlie Nelson/Reader
Kudos: 4





	Tonight at Eight

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing for MM! Woohoo! About time to clown some more! I hope you guys like it!

You sat there at the dinner table for ages. Waiting. Waiting. The clock ticked away. Before you were a wide table with everything you had prepared yourself. You had even donned an apron, like the pictures of adoring housewives of the 1950s always did, and smiled as you made sure the meat was cooked, and the potatoes were buttered. You even had the nicest wine was poured out for your boyfriend.

But ten minutes passed.

Then half an hour.

Then an hour.

The food was getting cold and the chilled wine became tepid. Even the cake you baked for the dinner seemed to sink a little bit. You finally had to scoop. You didn’t want to do it, but you sent a text asking Charlie where he was.

And there was no reply. Not one from his mobile phone. And if there was no word, especially in a job where he daily dealt with death, then there was one credible answer to assume.

Your stomach was rumbling. You tried to ignore your hunger. The smells tortured you.

Finally, you scooped what had to be your dinner onto a microwavable plate and nuked it until the temperature made it edible. Downing it with your wine as if it was a shot, you wondered if you could spare a second glass for when Charlie came back.

That is if he came back.

Another hour passed. It was getting later and later into the night. With a final huff, you got out the Tupperware and shoved the food inside, snapping the lid shut with a pop.  
A car parked outside when you had put away the cake. The door creaked open and you heard a familiar rhythm of shoes on the floor. That was always the rhythm he walked when he entered in. But tonight it didn’t make you happy. In fact, maybe his walking in was even worse. It meant you had to face the truth.

“Y/N? Y/N!” he cried out.

You turned to him, your jaw and lips turning tight. He was still in his dark jacket and his hair was windswept from being outside.

“Tonight we were going to have dinner...I made this whole meal for you...I went over budget shopping for it and it took hours to make...”

“Y/N, I...”

“And I don’t get as much as a text from you!” you blurted out, unable to hold in your frustration.

“There was a death. Sudden. Barnaby thinks it’s connected with the old woman being speared last week. And a kid discovered the body and panicked...”

This man you adored with every fiber of your being had a job that made him break promises and run out even when he made a commitment to you. Besides, how many of these cases involved someone cheating on their spouse? Was that just the thing here to do? How could you be sure he wouldn’t be like that? Or that he was telling the truth? It made your dinner flip in your stomach. 

“Charlie, I can’t with your job-you didn’t so much as give me a call about what was happening! And I went out of the way to do this for you! I work so hard, and I try to do so much for you but how can I just...keep giving you everything when you run off!”

“Someone was murdered,” he explained plainly. He even scratched the back of his brown head.

“This is a small town! How many people die here anyway? IS this place just...just cursed!?” you vented. “Why can’t people here die normal deaths?”

He reached to touch you but you backed away.

“I was so happy to finally have a date with you that wasn’t interrupted and you...you just left!” you continued, letting some tears fall.

Wiping them away defiantly, you walked up to him trying to match his tall height with your own.

“When I agreed to be his Detective Sergent I knew what I was signing up for, and when you said yes to dating me you knew this would be part of it!” he snapped back.

Backing away, you started to blink. Then a serious wave of heavier sadness ebbed into you like a current. 

Charlie was a quiet man. Sweet, good-tempered. You had never seen him angry before. Even at work, discussing the cruelest and most unusual of deaths, he kept a cheerful, calm aura about him every minute. 

And you were the one to bring this out to him. Yes, you. 

Running out, you open and slam the door, though you hear him call out your name from behind.

Overwhelmed, you run outside. Your face feels hot and your chest is heavy from heaving with heavy sobs. The trees outside shadow the sky and looking up, you see it’s a starry night.

Looking up, you stop and catch your cold breath. Tears streaming your cheeks.

Finally, you hear the footsteps behind you. You should have known. Charlie could always run like the wind.

“Hey...hey Y/N....” he comforted.

He opened up his jacketed arms and you gave in. Leaning in and sobbing.

“I...I’m so sorry. I’m so horrible...”

“You were mad. And I did something wrong. I got so caught up in work I didn’t even say a word...I should have texted you...” he apologized quietly.

You felt his large hands tangle themselves in your hair. It was always a comforting feeling.

“The truth is...yes, I get mad. Yes, the hours are long. But I kept wondering...if you were okay? If you were hurt? If they could injure you, Charlie, or worse. I was scared...I was scared you were killed...Every time you go away I think it’s going to be the last time I see you.”

You let yourself cry and he allows you. Once the tears calm down you both breathe in deeply.

“Can you forgive me, Charlie?” you questioned. “For being horrible to you?”

You look up at him and he gives you a dazzling smile.

“Hmm, I don’t know...” he says jokingly.

He reaches into the sleeve of his jacket as if to scratch his wrist, then suddenly from the cuffs with a swoosh he pulls out a bouquet of yellow flowers that he gives to you.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked.

Finally managing a small laugh.

“Yes, of course. Let’s get inside. I bet you’re hungry...”

“Starving, actually.”


End file.
